


We're Not All Monsters

by RayneSummer



Series: Teen Wolf: missing scenes [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Missing Scenes, tags for 4x09 and 4x10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 22:09:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8685226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayneSummer/pseuds/RayneSummer
Summary: Missing scenes | 4x09 + 4x10 | feat. Stubborn Stiles & equally as stubborn nurse Melissa, & Malia being lovely as usual, & Lydia being caring but determined--“I’m completely and totally fine,” he said, but was practically cut off, both in words and movement, by Melissa moving right in front of him in the doorway, hands out to stop him with an essence of you are not getting past.He automatically backed up a couple steps with apprehension. “Ah-ah-ah.” She gave him a look. “You completely and totally have a concussion, Stiles, lie back down.”--





	1. Part One: Don't Argue With Lydia Martin

**Author's Note:**

> Title has little to do with the story, but comes from the episode quote,  
> 'Not all monsters do m o n s t e r o u s things'

Hesitantly, Parrish raised the gun in his hands so it was pointing roughly at Meredith; enough to pull the trigger and incapacitate her if she made a move, anyway. But the aim was anything but sure, and he glanced at Lydia with an again-innocent face full of uncertainty.

“I’ve got to call the department,” he said, since that was the only thing he was sure of. Lydia nodded, seemingly unable to take her open gaze off Meredith. Beside her, Stiles was staring at Bronski’s body with an unreadable expression.

Parrish took a deep breath and lowered his gun only slightly, using one hand to contact the station on his radio. “Come in. This is Deputy Parrish at Eichen house. Situation over, requesting clean-up.”

There was a crackle as the receptionist arranged sending cars over and contacting other people, and Lydia finally looked away from Meredith, who had sunk to a sitting position on the floor, staring unblinkingly at the ground.

She nudged the boy beside her, and slowly Stiles looked up, forehead creased as if in pain or working something out. Lydia frowned.

“You okay?” She asked quietly. He nodded unconvincingly, but Parrish began explaining the situation through the radio and Lydia looked up at him, listening, as Stiles’ gaze drifted back to Bronski’s unseeing face.

He must have missed a thing or two, because when Lydia tapped him on the arm a moment later, Parrish was standing by a handcuffed Meredith, reporting to the radio that she was secure and they were waiting for back-up, while Lydia was standing and looking a lot more composed than a minute ago.

“Come on,” she said, holding out a hand to help him to his feet. “We better go wait for them outside.”

Stiles nodded and gratefully took her support, because he was feeling distantly ill from looking at a dead body for so long. There was a bitter taste in his mouth and a pounding headache behind his eyes, and suddenly standing didn’t seem like a good idea – he stumbled as Lydia tightened her grip and quickly felt for the wall behind them so he could lean against it and focus on not throwing up or passing out, because for some reason his body really wanted to do one or both of those things right now.

Lydia’s worried “Stiles?” and Parrish’s even more distant “What happened before I got here?” kind of faded into background noise as Stiles closed his eyes and swallowed hard, the cold wall on his back helping a little. Okay, maybe it wasn’t just the dead body that was making him feel sick.

After a quick discussion, they decided to all go outside, since back-up was well on its way, leaving Bronski dead on the floor for the coroners to deal with. It wasn’t much of a loss, but they all felt it all the same.

Lydia helped Stiles to not fall over as they ascended the basement stairs and walked some empty hallways back to the reception area, ignoring the stunned look of a lone orderly at the desk. Parrish kept Meredith in front of him, gun still in hand though not particularly ready to fire.

A sharp word at said orderly had the guy hurry to let the Deputy and his witnesses out as sirens outside reached a crescendo and several vehicles pulled up outside the gates, including an ambulance and the Sherriff’s car.

So that was how Stiles found himself sitting on the steps at the back of an ambulance, Lydia standing almost on guard nearby with her arms crossed, gaze focused at Meredith in the back of a police car. She was torn between following the other banshee to the station or taking Stiles to hospital herself – he had (very) reluctantly agreed to go after being ganged up on by Parrish, Lydia, his dad, and one of the paramedics.

Eventually, Stiles convinced both her and his dad to go with Meredith, because their primary concern was stopping the deadpool as quickly as absolutely possible, while Parish stayed at Eichen to search Bronski’s office. (And he could have sworn he heard his dad say something to Parish along the lines of something bad almost happening to Scott and Malia and Liam, or something, but his head felt like it had been hit by a sledgehammer rather than a fist and hospital-grade painkillers weren’t sounding like such a bad idea right now.)

The coroners soon turned up and Parish briefly talked to them as well some of the staff from Eichen who needed to really know what the hell was going on, so the Sherriff and Lydia could get Meredith to the station and Stiles quickly told them to update him on anything before he went to sit with one of the paramedics in the back of the ambulance and answer a bunch of usual questions about allergies and stuff and vaguely wondered if it would be better or worse (as in, would he get to leave quicker) if Melissa was working in the hospital at the moment.

* * *

 

Turned out she was, because Scott’s mum worked too often and so hard despite all the supernatural shit going on around the town, not to mention her own son and his friends’ involvement in said shit.

So after the paramedic walked him to a room while reporting the case to a doctor that seemed to suddenly appear next to them (luckily not the same one that had been his dad’s literally yesterday _and_ his a couple months ago during the whole probably-possibly-maybe dying thing that turned out to just be an incredibly evil Japanese spirit), the doctor checked him over then told him to stay lying down as both medics left for a moment.

Stiles wasn’t very good at being still – never had been and never would be – so he stared restlessly at the ceiling and fidgeted with his hands (he was fairly certain he didn’t take his Adderall this morning anyway, you know with all the deadpool and his dad getting shot going on) while he lay there waiting, feet almost touching the jacket he’d been made to take off and leave at the end of the bed; the jacket that contained the tape Bronski had forced Lydia to listen to. She had pressed it into his hand a moment before they left that haunting basement, and he’d slipped it in his pocket as Parish turned back to them. Simply, of course, because generally one doesn’t take things from crime scenes.

Or, in a way they couldn’t quite explain, they were both silently sure it contained a clue with just a knowing look at one another. Either explanation was good.


	2. Part Two: Don't Argue With Melissa McCall

He heard the door open after a light knock, but was so lost in thought he didn’t take his sightless gaze away from the ceiling for a moment, until there was a quiet clearing of a throat and a familiar, warm feminine voice; “Stiles?”

Blinking a bit – half because of the concussion and half to stop the crowding thoughts – he glanced to the side to see Melissa’s concerned eyes as she gave him a slight smile. Stiles sort of nodded as a greeting, because he was still pretty distracted, and she frowned for a second before holding up a syringe in his line of sight.

“Sorry, but just look away for a minute,” she said in way of apology at his grimace. Stiles sighed a little overdramatically, a characteristic of his normal attitude towards needles, and deliberately turned his head the other way in preparation.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he quipped, making Melissa chuckle as she moved to inject the medication. He winced, feeling her about to poke him, and added, “go on then.”

Melissa shook her head in both bemusement and some exasperation as she gave him the pain meds and disposed of the syringe before pulling a penlight out of her pocket and giving Stiles a stern look to pre-empt any protest.

“So,” she began as she carefully shone the light in his eyes, watching critically as he winced. “Going to give the investigating at Eichen a break now?”

She smiled a little sadly at his unamused hum in a non-committal way, switching to check the other eye. She didn’t know much actually; she’d had a quick call from the Sheriff just prior to Stiles turning up, about the situation in brief, and had barely talked to his doctor before immediately volunteering to deliver the patient’s medication.

Apart from that, and the boy’s usual knack for getting in trouble – not to mention Lydia’s aura for supernatural danger – Melissa was generally ready to deal with whatever their little pack got into. She was almost thankful that it was no more than a nasty concussion this time.

At least her son wasn’t going to die for almost an hour again. Hopefully.

“Is it important enough to tell me now, or shall I just wait to get the full story?” She clicked the light off and slipped it back in her pocket, watching Stiles grimace and blink the dots out of his vision. “Or would you rather hear what I have to say?”

That got his attention, and he looked at her expectantly. “I’m always glad you work so hard, Melissa,” he murmured just about audibly, and twitched a smile. He was still a shade paler than usual, and the bruise on his face where he’d been hit was beginning to very much show, but now the pain meds were kicking in it was going to be a challenge to keep him down much longer.

Melissa sighed good-naturedly in reply and very gently touched the bruised side of his face before explaining, “it doesn’t look that terrible, but you need to stay a bit longer for observation, and I’m pretty sure it’ll be best to do a CT scan just in case there’s any underlying damage.”

Stiles couldn’t help a quiet sigh at that, but remembering the conversation slash argument from the very same morning gave him pause and stopped him replying sarcastically or immediately leaving.

Instead, he hummed thoughtfully for a second before slowly sitting up enough to lean on his elbow, but winced at the pain that still caused in the back of his head, accompanied by a dizziness that warned him against getting up yet.

“Stiles?” Melissa was watching him critically, with a look in her eye that almost said she knew _exactly_ what he was thinking.

He sniffed and rubbed his other hand over his face. “I’m okay,” Stiles offered, not entirely truthfully (but since when had he ever talked to a guardian with actual honesty?).

It was Melissa’s turn to make a noncommittal noise and she turned around, heading for the drug cabinet, as Stiles watched her warily. “Alright, well what about this,” she started, a small, fond smile on her face because Stiles was always her son too and she would always have time to deal with him. “You take these, and I go and talk to the doctor.”

She went over to the sink and filled a glass there with water before approaching Stiles, showing him the two painkiller pills in a little drug plastic cup and putting the water on the bedside table as he hesitantly took the tablets from her.

“What is it?” Of course he absolutely trusted Melissa, but he also would like to know what he was being given. She just smiled that smile she’d given him all those months ago when she had asked about trust.

“Some more painkillers; the other one was more of an anti-inflammatory to keep swelling down,” she explained kindly, and gestured to the water. “Take those and they should kick in quickly. I’ll be back in a minute.”

With that, Melissa gave Stiles another warm look as he sat up properly, eyeing the drugs, and she went to the door before glancing back to make sure he was going to swallow the tablets, then headed out into the hall.

-

Finding Stiles’ doctor wasn’t hard because they weren’t too busy at the moment, and getting the information was even easier since the man basically handed her a file with the both his and the paramedic’s notes in.

She almost wished it worked this way all the time, but considering how many files the Sheriff and the boys attempted to find these days, it was probably a good thing not everything was so easy to get a hold of.

Walking back to Stiles’ room – because she was aware he may well try to simply walk out instead of _resting_ – and reading through the file didn’t really give her any new information, which wasn’t surprising. The doctor had written about a CT scan, as she thought, but actually getting the teen to let them do that was another story.

On the way through the halls though, Melissa was briefly sidetracked by having to help a patient with their medication then having to track down their day nurse to tell him. So by the time she got back to Stiles’ room and put the notes in the folder outside before replacing it in its holder, he was sitting at the side of the bed, pretty much about to flee.

So at Melissa’s appearance at the door, before she could even start saying anything, Stiles quickly got up, grabbed his jacket, and went for the hallway.

“I’m completely and totally fine,” he said, but was practically cut off, both in words and movement, by Melissa moving right in front of him in the doorway, hands out to stop him with an essence of _you are not getting past_.

He automatically backed up a couple steps with apprehension. “Ah-ah-ah.” She gave him a look. “You _completely and totally_ have a concussion, Stiles, lie back down.”

She nodded at the bed to reinforce the point but Stiles’ unhappy-about-that expression didn’t change, so Melissa added higher powers of, “the doctor said you’re not leaving without a CT scan.”

But of course Stiles had an _excellent_ answer for _that_ – “we still haven’t paid for the last one.” – and tried to get past her again, knowing it was half automatic and half for sidetracking, and feeling a little bad about both tactics.

“Oh, nononono no,” she immediately reacted, moving back in front of him as he tried to step forward, and fixing the teen with even more of a look that Stiles could barely decipher.

(But it was filled with love and care and exasperation and fond frustration from a lifetime’s experience looking after a certain bright but slightly broken little boy.)

“Meredith is at the station,” Melissa reminded him, trying to calm the almost frantic look in his eyes that said he _had_ to help somehow, “your dad said it could take some time, but he will get her to talk.”

The reassurance was finally getting to him, and Stiles looked at the floor, feeling conflicted, as Melissa continued in a softer tone. “Even if I let you go,” she met his eyes as he glanced back up at her for a second, “what would you do?”

Stiles’ gaze was almost distant as he looked at some point past Melissa, thinking. Then his gaze flicked to the bed and back to the nurse and he almost sighed again – “okay, fine,” but in a resigned way; not with aggression – before putting his jacket back at the end of the bed and dropping down next to it, still thinking too fast.

Somewhat relieved, the nurse watched him rub the back of his neck in an uncomfortable way as she leaned on the plastic end rail of the bed, waiting a moment.

“Can you do me one little favour?” Stiles’ gaze was still on the floor, lost in thought, but it was clear he was addressing her.

“Anything.”

“Can you get me a tape player?”

He turned to look at her again, and she stared for a moment before frowning in confusion. “Like cassettes?”

Amusingly, Stiles briefly had the expression of ‘an adult not knowing what a teenager is talking about’ on his face before he nodded slightly impatiently. “Yes. Tapes.”

Melissa looked at him for a second more, bemused, before agreeing with a nod, “Yeah, I’ll see what I can do.” She straightened up and went to head out, beginning to close the door behind her with another glance at Stiles, who nodded in thanks.

“Okay- tapes, though,” he clarified just before she left. Melissa paused in closing the door and regarded the earnestly serious expression on his face.

She couldn’t help smiling a little. “Casettes,” she agreed, and clicked the door shut. Shaking her head a little in fondness, Melissa headed down the hall wondering where exactly she could find a ‘tape player’ in the hospital.


	3. Part Three: Humans and Coyotes Can Get Along

A quick search of a cramped children’s toy cupboard held nothing helpful, so Melissa headed back to reception to check for such a thing there. On the way down the halls, she had to stop and check on a couple of patients’ medication charts, and passed by Liam’s stepdad, who didn’t quite pretend not to see her, but gave her a wide berth in the fairly empty hallway.

She felt a little bad for him being so cautious around her – and, moreover, around Scott – now, but if screaming in someone’s arms wasn’t a convincing reaction to hearing your child’s death called, then who knew what was.

Supposedly it was just a little unfortunate that it was his emergency shift when they made that whole plan. Or maybe that _was_ the plan? Who knew with those teenagers.

Melissa arrived back at reception, checked the back room for a cassette recorder thing, then filled out some paperwork that was sitting on the side. (Luckily she had learnt how to balance her day-to-day job with the supernatural business stuff – the times the two didn’t collide, that was.)

She was just thinking about checking back in with Stiles when a very hesitant pair of shuffling feet appeared in her line of sight.

“Um. Hi.” The former full-time-coyote was clearly uneasy and fidgeting with her fingers as she tried to address Melissa. “Is uh, is Stiles here? I mean- okay, is he okay?”

The nurse smiled warmly at Malia; she knew a little about what had happened both historically and recently, and it was clear by the girl’s appearance and nerves that she had come of her own accord.

“Yes, he’s here, and he’s fine, it’s just a concussion.” Melissa made sure to sound both reassuring and assertive, and she stepped around the desk to stand in front of the girl. She flinched ever so slightly and kept her eyes on the floor, letting a breath out slowly.

Malia nodded slowly, taking in the reply. Technically, she could leave now she knew he was okay, but something kept her there. Scott’s mum gestured slightly down the hall and asked, “do you want to see him?”

“I don’t know,” was the truthful answer, and Malia couldn’t help admitting it out loud. She wasn’t used to so many emotions and they were annoying and confusing.

Melissa smiled again and took a step towards the hall. “Well, you’re here now. Come with me, I’m sure he wants to see you.”

After another hesitation, Malia nodded somewhat doubtfully, but followed closely at the nurse’s heel down the tiled halls towards the human’s room she was seeking.

“Wait just a second,” Melissa told the coyote girl, making sure to give her another encouraging smile as she hung back, unsure but willing. Quietly, the nurse knocked on the door and opened it, seeing Stiles turn in his seated position on the bed to face her as she entered.

“You find a tape player?” he asked immediately, not particularly hopeful. She was pleased to notice Stiles seemed a bit more alert and brighter now, anyway.

“No,” she replied steadily, watching him, “but I found someone looking for you.”

Stiles made an expression and gesture that was a literal non-verbal ‘well, who?’ before realising that _he_ didn’t know who would be looking for him, and Melissa stepped back against the door, glancing at the hallway where Malia was standing.

She slowly walked past Melissa and into the room, meeting Stiles as he just sort of stared, standing up with one hand on the end bed rail, unsure as the other. “…Hi.”

Melissa backed out of the room, pulling the door shut after her as before. Malia glanced behind her once as the nurse left, but Stiles’ gaze never left the girl’s face. Something in their postures and willingness to talk made Melissa think that they would be okay.

-

She had one more run-in with the two detectives before they once again joined the fight, to do what they could to help their pack.

Stiles fast-talked Malia through what had happened to him and Lydia at Eichen (leaving out specific things the werecoyote had no need to be reminded of, like the feel of a tazer and the threat of a needle) as they walked down the corridor to head out.

So he was startled out of his recapping by Melissa stopping them in the hallway. “Stiles-”

“Melissa, I love you, but please, we’ve got to help the others,” Stiles said immediately, the expression on his face half way between pleading and an exasperated fondness that was common for the family.

Malia, next to him, was looking a lot happier than a moment ago, and was also holding the boy’s hand in a light grip. She gave Melissa a rueful smile in greeting.

The nurse just shook her head and smiled at the two teenagers, both desperate to make things right.

“Any severe headaches, nausea, or dizziness, and you come straight back, yeah?”

Stiles sighed in relief and gave her a smile so reminiscent of his childhood that she almost felt tears behind her eyes. “Promise,” he said.

Melissa nodded authoritively and turned her stern gaze to Malia. “And you drag him back here if anything else happens, okay? Or get Scott to do it,” she added with a smile as Stiles looked slightly betrayed that Malia would tell their alpha on him.

The werecoyote glanced bemusedly at her human before nodding firmly. “Right,” she agreed with a smile too.

The nurse eyed them both again, then waved down the hall as a gesture of letting them leave, smile still on her face. “Now, go on with you. Go save… well, everyone, as usual.”

Stiles huffed a laugh, flashing her a grin as he pulled Malia down the hallway to the exit.

Melissa shook her head in fondness for about the hundredth time as she watched the two hurry out to save the town yet again with friends by their side.

Actually, there was one more thing the mother of a True Alpha had to advise his pack on;

“Oh, and don’t you dare try to drive that jeep, Stiles Stilinski!”

**Author's Note:**

> for how long this took: it's been 84 years...  
> for how long since I've finish writing ANYTHING: *one eternity later*  
> extra note: currently working on a 5x20 tag for after the chaos but before the end, again focused on Stiles & Malia with Melissa and also many pack feels as always  
> ,I love them all so much


End file.
